


red carnation: plucked

by starbeyy



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Pining Sakusa Kiyoomi, Post-Timeskip, Protective Hinata Shouyou, Weddings, lots of ocean metaphors ??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 00:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30131187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbeyy/pseuds/starbeyy
Summary: Against all his inhibitions, Sakusa Kiyoomi drags himself to Miya Atsumu’s wedding swearing up and down that he’s over his infatuation. While he expected bouquets and ribbons and white lace, he definitely didn’t expect the flood of feelings that would wash over him in seeing Atsumu again and the chaos he’d cause by showing up at all.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 84





	red carnation: plucked

**Author's Note:**

> this is really nothing special, just an idea that's been eating away at me for ages. _and I need to start learning how to write one-shots and stop turning all of my ideas into 20-chapter monstrosities o__O_

It was May—

a nice month for a wedding.

The cherry blossoms had begun to fade from the Japanese landscape, but Kiyoomi welcomed the warmer weather in its place. He’d awoken before the sun had reared its bright, blinding head in order to make it to the venue in time with an hour or so of cushion, but the fatigue was just starting to settle in as the hour hand on Sakusa’s watch ticked to the 10.

Birds chirped in the distance. A warm yet cleansing breeze shuddered through the cedar leaves. Sakusa adjusted the button of his suit jacket and tugged on the end of his tie, wondering if it was the purple piece of silk or the warm weather that was making him feel so breathless.

There was a pool at the pit of his stomach that was usually still, but Sakusa had been breaking the surface with stones all morning, letting the aftermath ripple through him. He swallowed a sour taste that he couldn’t seem to brush off his tongue that morning and trailed his eyes up from the brushing grass to the estate that lay before him.

It was a grand sort of building with American colonial influences. The bricks were a deep red cut through by tall white columns which held the matching white roof in its place. Rounded, paned windows stretched from the floors to the place where the roof met the wall and behind them, Sakusa could see rustling white curtains moving inside.

His hands trembled. Sakusa didn’t realize that he was still holding onto his tie until he looked down. His fingers were white and clammy, running over the thin threads of the fabric.

_“Omi,” Atsumu whined._

_With one hand, Atsumu was gripping a whiskey glass. With the other, he tugged on Sakusa’s sweater._

_“I’m not taking you out for food,” Sakusa groaned, “It’s four am.”_

_Atsumu pouted. Sakusa watched out of the corner of his eye. His face flushed, and he looked back out to the sky to try and mask it from an inebriated Atsumu’s unfiltered judgement._

_The railing of the balcony was cold against Sakusa’s arms. He had a beer hanging off the edges of his fingers, but he was too scared to take a sip from it if he were to tremble the entire time. Atsumu was still holding onto his sleeve, letting the whole weight of his body hang off of the fabric._

_“Omi-i, can I ask you a question?” Atsumu whispered._

_Sakusa turned and gulped. Atsumu was gazing up at him with bright, shining eyes. Sakusa tightened his grip around the beer._

_“Sure,” he replied flatly._

_Atsumu’s ears tinted pink. His eyes were half-lidded and they flickered all over Sakusa’s face._

_“D’you—maybe—” Atsumu’s mouth hung agape._

_Sakusa leaned in. Atsumu mirrored him, shifting forward until their noses were only centimeters apart._

Sakusa’s entire body tremored with every step he took towards the grand building. To his right was a stone path leading to somewhere behind the large structure at which a few bodies were milling around, tying pure white ribbons around tree trunks and hammering wooden signs into the ground. To his left, a handful of gardeners were pruning the tulips which lined the perimeter.

He pushed open one of the grand double doors that led into the foyer, but his heart nearly stopped when he slammed into a smaller body right as he slipped through the opening.

“Oh! Sorry,” the woman hissed.

Sakusa’s jaw went slack and he glanced down at the small, frazzled lady who he’d just run into. She looked up at him with a half-harrowed, half-terrifying expression, her hair sticking out in all directions and her suit untucked.

“Are you a groomsman?” She asked hastily.

Sakusa shook his head.

“No?”

“I lost a groomsman,” she tossed her hands in the air, “How do you _lose_ a _groomsman_?”

Sakusa opened his mouth to say something, but nothing would come out. The question sounded rhetorical, anyhow.

“Especially one that’s six foot two and two hundred pounds,” she cried.

“Bo,” Sakusa whispered to himself.

“He’s got the biggest damn eyes I’ve ever seen, you’d think there’d be some kinda dual-beacon coming out of them that I could follow,” she ranted, creating the image of the beacons with her hands.

Sakusa sealed his lips and flashed the small woman a dull smile.

“It’s ten,” he muttered, “he’s standing outside. It helps his sinuses.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” the woman groaned.

She pushed past Sakusa and shimmied out the door, no doubt in hot pursuit of the wing spiker in question. Sakusa glanced over his shoulder chastely just to watch her stomp around the corner of the building.

When she had finally gone, Sakusa became acutely aware of how quiet the foyer really was. The tall, vaulted ceilings ensured that each of his movements echoed through the entire room and as his shoes clacked against the marble floor, Sakusa couldn’t deny how small both the tall walls and the immense echo made him feel.

A curl dislodged from the slicked back style he’d worked on in the wee hours of the morning. He’d done it with tired eyes, so it wasn’t exactly his best work, considering how easily it was already coming apart.

_Tell him._

_Tell him._

_Sakusa’s mind was pleading with him, begging for him to tell Atsumu the things he’d been trapping up in his chest for so long._

_I love you._

_I need you._

_I’m nothing without you._

_“I’m leaving.”_

_Atsumu’s voice shocked Sakusa out of even his most harrowing of daydreams._

_“What?” He replied without thinking._

_“I’m leaving MSBY,” he muttered, “movin’ back home.”_

_Sakusa shook his head in disbelief. He squished his eyes closed then opened them, over and over, but every time he’d regain his vision, he would be in the exact same place._

_“Why?” Sakusa asked breathlessly._

_Atsumu’s eyes trailed down._

_“I’m just done,” he shrugged, “there’s nothin’ for me here, anymore.”_

_Me._

_There’s me._

_Of course, these were the things Sakusa wanted to say but knew he never could._

Sakusa wasn’t entirely sure where he was going. He’d showed up at the venue with only a semblance of a plan in mind, and now that he was here, all the grand ideas seem to have slipped out somewhere on the stone path outside. Now he was frozen at the base of the foyer stairs, his fingers curling hesitantly around the polished wood banister.

It might’ve seemed like a bad idea to show up at the wedding of a man Kiyoomi used to be madly in love with, but the key word here is ‘used to’. In the year that the two of them hadn’t spoken, he’d completely gotten over all the feelings he’d had for Miya Atsumu. He’d even dated here and there, just to prove that very fact to himself. When he got the wedding invitation, he was quick to RSVP, seeing the event as a sort of capper to his time loving Atsumu.

To his left was a gift table. It was empty, but a sign tacked to the front told him exactly what the surface was intended for. So, he dug into his pocket and pulled out a semi-crumpled envelope with a note and a check inside. On the front of the envelope was Atsumu’s name scrawled in shaky handwriting. He set the thing on the edge of the table and retracted his hand in the next moment, convinced that if he lingered he’d cower and take it back.

A voice floated from somewhere upstairs.

Sakusa took a step up the stairs. He leaned his ear closer and waited in anticipation for another sound.

He was singing.

Atsumu, to be exact.

_“You can’t—”_

_Sakusa stopped himself. His tongue got all tangled around the simple words that were all wrapped up in complicated feelings. Atsumu craned his neck back up, a rather sober look melting over his face._

_“Unless there’s something to keep me here, I have no reason to stay,” he whispered._

_Sakusa’s breath got heavy. Their noses were still threatening to touch, something that only a spasm of muscles could achieve, but Sakusa couldn’t bring himself to bridge the gap. Atsumu was the other shore but Sakusa’s inhibitions was the vast ocean that divided them, the only assurance that Atsumu was still there being the lapping waves against Sakusa’s own shoreline._

_“I—” Sakusa stammered._

_Atsumu tilted his head. His whiskey-hot breath fanned over Sakusa’s nose. Sakusa’s lips quivered around the invisible words, releasing ghosts of all his best intentions. That’s all Sakusa was, a house for ghosts to haunt and peek out of the window of his eyes._

_Who’s to say that Atsumu would be willing to walk the darkened halls of such a haunted body?_

_“Just—” Sakusa whispered, “let me know if you need help packing your stuff.”_

Like a mantra, Sakusa’s parting words to Atsumu played over and over in his head. For hours he’d laid in bed imagining every outcome of the situation if he’d bothered to say anything else, but he was always acutely aware of the reality—he couldn’t go back and change it no matter how much thinking he did.

But now, the endless mantra was being replaced with soft, dulcet tones floating from an opened door somewhere upstairs. It was singing, albeit a tad off-tune, but the lack of music made such a fact small and insignificant. Atsumu’s voice was raspy and crackly, even as he sang, and Sakusa felt the space between his ears flood with warmth as he listened.

He ascended the stairs as quietly as possible, only able to wish that the wood wouldn’t creak beneath his newly polished shoes. As he climbed, the sound got even louder and fuller, enough for Sakusa to pinpoint the exact door it floated from. His heart leapt to his throat and fluttered, making him feel a little sick.

Sakusa let his fingers slip from the bannister. He shuffled along the marble tiling of the second floor towards the door that was cracked, letting a stream of sunlight paint a portion of the ground. Atsumu kept singing, dropping the ends of some phrases and skipping the words he didn’t know. Sakusa’s heart pattered as he neared the sound.

He reached out for the sunlight like it was some finish line, beckoning him. He couldn’t peel his eyes from the stripe of white. When the frame of the door came into view, Sakusa had to manually crane his neck up and peek through the slivered opening.

_“I’m getting married,” Atsumu grinned._

_Sakusa was tempted to end the video call right after Atsumu’s confession, but what could be more obvious than that?_

_“Wow,” Sakusa whispered, “that’s—”_

_“He proposed last night,” Atsumu lifted his left hand to flash the ring on his finger._

_It felt like ropes of fire wrapping themselves around Sakusa’s wrists and pulling him in a million different directions. His skin seared and burned; his tongue felt like an anvil, weighed down by all the words he wanted to say and all the ones he should’ve said a long time ago._

_“My mom thinks I’m crazy,” Atsumu chuckled, “we’ve only been together for eight months but—”_

_Atsumu glanced up at Sakusa through the screen. His jovial smile melted into something veiled and confusing. Sakusa was never the best with reading emotions—especially Atsumu’s._

_“I love him.”_

When Atsumu moved, the two of them stopped talking. It wasn’t for lack of trying, Atsumu would text him every once in a while asking about the most recent MSBY game, but Sakusa never engaged in the conversation. He would just stare at the message and grip at the center of his chest, lamenting the one he let slip out of his fingers.

That was the nature of Sakusa’s life:

It was slipping right through his fingers, and he wasn’t even happy.

Thus, as he peered through the space between the door and the frame, he couldn’t ignore the flood of joy that spread through him.

Encased in a halo of light was Atsumu, facing the mirror before him with a focused eye on the knot of his tie. His fingers were running over the soft folds which he lifted his chin to get a better look at. His Adam’s apple bobbed with each tilt of his head, and he smiled when he was satisfied with the positioning.

Sakusa could only see his backside, but it was enough to know that the suit was perfectly tailored. Even though he’d abandoned volleyball a little over a year ago, he’d maintained his trimmed physique rather nicely—the fabric hugged in all the correct places and when he moved his arms, his shoulders would ripple through the deep navy blazer.

_I love him._

_I love him._

_“That’s—really good, Atsumu,” Sakusa nodded_

_“It was crazy we—have I told you the story of how we met?” Atsumu asked._

_“No,” Sakusa replied, “you haven’t.”_

_Atsumu hummed and glanced down at the ring on the hand that was now resting in his lap._

_“The day I moved back, I was taking a break from unpacking and all that,” his mouth twitched into a grin, “so I went to a field nearby to just bump the volleyball around and—”_

_Sakusa watched Atsumu’s mouth freeze. His eyes trailed in every possible place that wasn’t the inch taken up by the glinting ring._

_“He was there, playing with his dog,” he explained, “so I taught him how to receive a volleyball and—the rest is history.”_

_Sakusa could only nod. How else was he supposed to mask the sounds of his crystalline heart, shattering into a million pieces on the hard ground? The tinkling of the pieces played a sonata in the background of his pleading thoughts:_

_It should’ve been me._

_It should’ve been me._

_“I sent an invitation,” Atsumu perked back up, “you should be getting it soon.”_

_Sakusa’s heart tightened. He pulled his lips in between his teeth, his fingers itching to end the call before he burst into tears._

_“I hope you’ll come,” he added._

Atsumu leaned towards the mirror to tuck a strand of hair back into its proper place and when he did, his entire perspective must’ve changed.

His mouth cracked into a wide grin and the light that was already clouded around him shone even brighter for a chaste moment.

“Omi,” he sighed.

Instantly, Sakusa’s mouth went dry. He wanted to move, respond, do _something_ but the simple sight of Atsumu had rendered him paralyzed. Especially when the man in question turned, Sakusa could feel all the moisture in his body drain onto the tile.

“You’re here,” said Atsumu lowly.

Sakusa swallowed and flashed him a dull smile. Atsumu used his hands to brush the lapels of his blazer, narrowly missing the boutonniere that looked freshly pinned to the pocket.

“W-you—come in,” he motioned beside him.

Sakusa nodded and shimmied through the small opening, tucking his trembling hands into his pockets at the next foreseeable moment. Atsumu shuffled around for a moment, checking the surface of the vanity which was in front of him and the hem of his slacks for any folds or creases.

With every step Sakusa took closer to Atsumu, spurts of electricity shot up his veins. His heart became too large for his throat so now it just beat loudly at the very front of his chest. Atsumu’s blonde hair glittered in the morning sunlight that streamed through the massive windows of the large, echoey room.

The walls and flooring were the same as the foyer and hallways, but the furniture was sparser, just a vanity on the opposite wall, a closet to Sakusa’s right, and a pair of plush armchairs to his left. Hanging from the closet door was an unzipped garment bag from which any contents had obviously been pulled.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” he said gently.

Sakusa begged his mind to generate something to say in return. It’d been forever since they talked, and that was entirely Sakusa’s fault. It was like they just stood there with nothing to say to each other, one long year keeping them at arms length.

“Nice place,” he grunted.

Atsumu chuckled lightly. Sakusa felt his cheeks flush pink and hot.

“It is, isn’t it?” Atsumu glanced out the window, “My parents got married here.”

“So—it’s been around for a long time?” Sakusa asked.

“Yeah, and then some,” Atsumu replied.

He turned back, eyes grazing the toes of Sakusa’s shoes all the way up to his slicked curls.

“Are you gonna be in town long?” Atsumu asked in a polite voice.

“Actually,” Sakusa fiddled with his fingers, “I have a plane to catch tomorrow. My parents are in the States for my uncle’s funeral and I’m joining them.”

It was true. Atsumu’s wedding was just supposed to be some passing thing on his way to the funeral halfway across the world. And if, for some reason, the wedding was some disastrous sort of affair, he could run off to the States right after.

“Oh,” Atsumu’s brow lifted, “I didn’t know—I’m so sorry.”

“We weren’t really close,” Sakusa shrugged, “going is really just a formality.”

Atsumu nodded. Eventually, his nod turned into a full body scan of the man standing before him. His brow lowered and his eyes grew pointed.

“How much do you weigh now?” Atsumu quirked a brow.

“What?” Saksusa scoffed.

“You look bigger,” he replied, “in an athlete way, of course.”

Sakusa glanced down at his crisp, white dress shirt and nicely fitted gray blazer, the one he’d also worn to every MSBY event ever held. He hated buying suits.

“176,” Sakusa told him, “got weighed last week.”

Atsumu pursed his lips and shook his head, “Still not bigger than Koutarou.”

“If I wanted to be bigger than Koutarou I’d have to re-enter the womb and wish for better genes,” Sakusa replied teasingly.

“What are you waiting for?” Atsumu gestured.

“A new era of science,” Sakusa bit back.

They shared a quiet moment where they smiled dully—it was all they could muster, really. Atsumu glanced down at his right side and adjusted the bright red flower that was pinned onto the fabric. Sakusa followed his hands with his gaze, watching as the clean-cut fingers gingerly shifted the bloom.

“Carnation,” Atsumu muttered, catching Sakusa’s eye, “his idea.”

Sakusa didn’t have to ask what man Atsumu was referring to.

“He’s all into flower language and stuff,” he squinted, “I guess people would send messages to each other using different flowers in Victorian times.”

Sakusa watched the sunlight dance off the flower’s curled edges.

“So, are you going to tell me what it means before I die and wither away?” Sakusa joked coldly.

Atsumu rolled his eyes, “Impatient, much?”

Atsumu’s right hand was leaning on the surface of the vanity, the top halves of his fingers had flushed white from his impossible tight grip.

“It means ‘My heart aches for you’,” Atsumu said matter-of-factly, “—or something like that.”

Sakusa released a subtle, shuddering breath. The same way he couldn’t tear his eyes from the stripe of light on the floor, he couldn’t seem to peel himself away from the blinding sight of the bright red carnation that was pinned against Atsumu’s navy blue suit. It mocked him and beckoned him and haunted him all at the same time.

 _I’m over him_ , his mind chanted.

_I’m completely over him._

Atsumu turned to look back out the window once more. Sakusa followed his gaze to see a group of men carry white folding chairs across the front lawn, narrowly missing the tulip patches. Out of the corner of his eye, Sakusa watched Atsumu’s chest fall.

“Hey, Omi,” he asked softly.

“Yes?”

“D’you ever think—” Atsumu sucked in a small breath through parted lips, “that things should be different?”

Sakusa’s tongue darted out to wet his lips as his gaze shot towards Atsumu. Atsumu didn’t return the sentiment—he was too fascinated with the scene outside the window.

“What do you mean?” Sakusa asked in a wavering voice.

“Like—you look at everything happening in your life and it feels— _off_ ,” Atsumu squished his eyes closed, “like you’re living the timeline that was supposed to just be a big ‘what if’ scenario?”

It was a strange feeling, the one that flooded through Sakusa. It was the feeling of standing on the shoreline of an empty beach, realizing that you can only watch the ocean roll and crest and there is nothing you could do to control any part of it. You are small, you are terrified, yet you are calmed by the promise of being carried rather than having to do all the carrying.

“I—guess,” Sakusa cleared his throat.

Atsumu’s head snapped back forward so he could be eye-to-eye with Sakusa once again. At this distance, Sakusa could see the red rimming Atsumu’s eyes and the folded fear in his brow. He had to purse his lips to swallow roughly.

“Your watch,” Atsumu whispered.

“My what?” Sakusa eyed him strangely.

“Your watch, the one I borrowed from you for that MSBY event,” Atsumu started to glance all around in a panic, “I never gave it back to you.”

“What watch? What event?” Sakusa inquired, following Atsumu’s panicked ministrations with a serious gaze.

“Holy shit,” Atsumu hissed, “I gotta—”

In a flurry, Atsumu turned and slapped his hands all over the vanity in search of something. He grabbed his keys from one end and padded around his pocket for his phone.

“Atsumu, what are you doing?” Sakusa stepped towards him in a veiled attempt to block him from bolting.

“I’m gonna run back to my apartment so I can get you that watch,” he said insistently.

“What?” Sakusa exclaimed, “You’re not going anywhere.”

Now, he really had to block Atsumu who was charging like a bull towards the door with his keys in hand. Sakusa used his broad body to create a barrier that Atsumu tried desperately to pass. Sakusa wouldn’t let him, reaching his hands out to catch a rather rabid-looking Atsumu.

“C’mon, Omi, jus’ lemme through,” he whined.

“You can’t go back to your apartment,” Sakusa retorted.

“Why not?” Atsumu planted himself and shouted right in Sakusa’s face.

“Because you’re getting married!” Sakusa cried.

Atsumu’s heavy, angry brow began to lift. His eyes shook from their craze as the realization settle deftly into his mind. His eyes flickered down to his suit, then the boutonniere, then the keys in his hand.

“Oh,” Atsumu whispered.

Sakusa heaved a sigh as Atsumu blinked himself back to reality. They were standing closer now, just steps away from being right against one another. Atsumu’s free hand flew up to card through his hair. As he tugged on the blonde strands, he squished his eyes closed and pulled his lips between his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s fine,” Sakusa replied.

“I’ve just—ever since we started planning, I’ve been a basket case,” he sighed, “don’t know why.”

“Wedding planning is stressful,” Sakusa placed a reassuring hand on Atsumu’s shoulder.

Even the touch was overwhelming. Right as his palm made contact with Atsumu’s body, Sakusa felt his brain go cottony and muffled. When Atsumu met his eyes once again, Sakusa had a hard time peeling his hand away.

_“But you love him!” Hinata cried._

_“I know!” Sakusa shouted in return._

_“So, go get him back!”_

_“I can’t!”_

_Sakusa tugged on his own curls with fierce, hot fingers. Hinata had cornered him after practice with a million questions about why Atsumu was leaving and why Sakusa refused to stop him._

_“He was practically begging you for a reason to stay, why didn’t you give him one?” Hinata shouted accusingly._

_“He deserves better than me,” Sakusa hissed._

_“Oh, fuck that,” Hinata waved him off._

_“Sho!”_

_“You gave up,” Hinata bit with an accusing finger, “you got scared and you gave up.”_

_Sakusa’s chest rattled with angry breaths, but he couldn’t tell Hinata that he was wrong. He was a coward, a coward who couldn’t admit his feelings no matter how hard he tried. And now he’d lost his only chance._

_“What choice did I have?” Sakusa choked up, “I was gonna lose him either way.”_

_Hinata scoffed and blinked off to the side._

_“You’re an idiot,” Hinata hissed, “you’re the reason he’s gone.”_

“Omi—” Atsumu began.

Sakusa had to force himself to look Atsumu in the eye. Was his hand really still on this guy’s shoulder.

“Am I doing the right thing?”

Sakusa’s mouth went dry. He retracted his hand as quickly as possible, realizing how long they’d truly been standing there like that. His heart thrummed against his ribcage in some percussion performance he hoped desperately that Atsumu couldn’t hear.

 _No_ , he wanted to shout.

_You’re making a mistake._

_You should be marrying me._

_I should be getting ready in the other room, not this other guy._

He wanted to. He almost did. But how would he ever forgive himself? He’d held on to his mistake on the balcony for longer than he’d have liked to—how long would he torture himself for ruining the best day of Atsumu’s life? And what if Atsumu wouldn’t even want him after the fact?

There were too many ‘ifs’, too many uncertainties, Sakusa couldn’t bring himself to take all those risks.

It was one word, one utterly painful word that he would’ve given his life to never say, but he had no other choice. In the ocean that laid between the two of them, Sakusa would rather die than make a wave that would indicate any sort of feelings towards Atsumu.

“Yes,” he replied flatly.

Atsumu sealed his lips and nodded languidly. His eyes trailed over to the side of the room as he folded his arms and used his right hand to rub the back of his left arm. He took one retreating step towards the window through which Sakusa watched a few guests start to stride in.

“You’re happy, right?” Sakusa asked in a small voice.

Atsumu didn’t turn to him, but Sakusa could tell that he was still thinking. His right hand slowed its rubbing and his eyes went glassy looking out the window.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I’m—really happy. I promise.”

Sakusa could only see half of his face, so any assumptions he made about the man’s expressions might’ve been wrong, but he watched the lines of his face fold in a confusing sort of disappointment. He was squinting. Was he—crying?

“I have to go, Atsumu,” Sakusa said hastily.

If he didn’t make himself a way out, Sakusa knew he was going to say something he regretted. He could already feel his chest splitting in two, letting out all the blood and guts that he was so desperate to hold in. If he didn’t leave now, he’d surely drip desperation all over the nice marble floors.

“Yeah,” Atsumu nodded, “you should go.”

He was still turned towards the window with his arms wrapped across his stomach. Every once in a while, his eyes would flicker back to where Sakusa seemed to be stuck, but he’d always look away, usually back out to the window.

“I’ll see you at the ceremony,” Sakusa said politely, already retreating towards the door with backwards steps.

Atsumu didn’t reply. Sakusa felt around for the door behind him while keeping a close eye on his friend’s form. There was no movement besides the soft rise and fall of his back as he breathed. Sakusa wanted to reach out and feel the muscle move and twitch beneath his hands. He wanted to hold Atsumu close, feel his hair tickle his chin in the early hours of the morning, shove his nose in the crook of Atsumu’s neck.

_It was 1am the night before Miya Atsumu’s wedding and Sakusa was writing._

_Or, he was trying to, at least._

_He wasn’t much of an author, but he’d always been able to churn out formal, polite notes for friends when it came to marriages and funerals and everything in between. He hated guessing what people needed, so he’d just include a pretty hefty check with his note and give the recipient the freedom to do what they’d like with it._

_Yet, as he sat with his pen poised, Sakusa didn’t even know where to start when it came to writing a note of this nature for Miya Atsumu._

_Surrounding him were piles of crumpled papers, drafts full of words that didn’t sound at all right. His brain felt like it was going to explode. He’d shifted between ultra-formal well wishes and extra-casual greetings that only took up a line or two._

_He poked the paper with the pen and watched the ink soak through._

_It was a small dot on the paper, something insignificant that could easily be lost in a sea of similarly inked characters._

_The mere sight surfaced a memory._

_It played at the forefront of Sakusa’s head like a tape caught on a loop. The memory was so clear and vibrant, he wondered how he’d forgotten it for this long._

_But it didn’t matter now, the memory had ignited his inspiration and a note flowed out of his hesitant pen in the moments that followed._

When Sakusa finally shuffled out into the hallway, he had to steady himself on the wall right outside the door. As his back went flush against the white drywall, his right hand flew up to grip his chest—if he didn’t, he was sure that his heart might fall right onto the ground, and he’d have to hold it in his trembling hands for the rest of the wedding. He swallowed all the breaths he knew he would choke on and blinked over and over, desperate to suck the tears back in.

“What are you doing here?” A menacing voice appeared in front of him.

Sakusa sniffled and blinked back welling tears before looking up to see a well-dressed Hinata standing directly in front of him. His brow was low and his usually wide, shining eyes had gone narrow.

“Shoyou—” Sakusa whispered.

“What are you doing here?” He repeated more insistently, his tongue dripping with a venomous lilt.

“I’m—here for the wedding,” Sakusa straightened his posture.

“You can’t be here,” Hinata hissed, leaning further towards Sakusa.

Sakusa glanced to the side, “But, I got an invitation.”

“And I left you a voicemail one week ago _begging_ you not to come.”

Hinata’s chest was moving up and down with hot, angry breaths. His face had almost gone redder than his hair. Sakusa had never been so afraid of the little guy.

“Things have been crazy recently, I must not’ve gotten around to listening to it,” Sakusa trailed off, really not sure how to explain that he doesn’t know how to check his voicemail.

Hinata sighed hastily and checked both ends of the hallway for intruders.

“You have to go, Sakusa,” he said low and serious.

“What?” Sakusa squinted in disbelief.

“You—being here—” Hinata gestured, “you’re screwing everything up.”

“How?!” Sakusa whispered harshly.

“You really need me to spell it out for you?”

Beneath Hinata’s oppressive gaze, Sakusa could only straighten his back and try to look as serious as him. If Hinata was anything, he was fiercely protective of his friends, and there was no doubt that he was protecting Atsumu with his life, in that moment.

“He hasn’t seen you, has he?” Hinata inquired darkly.

Sakusa’s eyes flickered to the door. He wasn’t much of a liar, but Sakusa hadn’t felt like himself that entire day.

“No,” he fibbed.

“Good, then get out,” Hinata commanded, “never tell him that you were even here just—”

He pointed towards the stairwell that led to the grand front doors, the perfectly tailored sleeve of his blazer riding up his arm.

“Go,” he repeated.

Sakusa’s jaw went slack. His mouth filled with empty words of defense, reasons why he should be able to stay and simply get over himself, but Hinata had been around for every step of Sakusa’s infatuation. He’d watched Sakusa fall in love and try desperately to pretend like it wasn’t true and miss his only chance and lose all hope in Atsumu’s absence.

Hinata’s hard brow softened and his eyes pled.

“Do it for him,” he said gently.

Sakusa swallowed thickly. He looked at Hinata in a last-ditch attempt to get him to change his mind, but it was a rare occurrence for Shoyou to be wrong. And in that moment, deep down, Sakusa knew that he was right in sending him off.

Thus, without another word, Sakusa turned and started quickly down the hallway, his nice dress shoes clacking against the marble floor and sending sonorous echoes through the building. The wind stung the tears that were welling in his eyes as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He started racing down the stairs with one hand on the bannister and the other ordering a car to come pick him up.

Sakusa sucked in a preventative breath, one that might stave off his tears for a little while longer. More gifts had gathered on the table in the foyer, but he couldn’t look at them for too long.

He was crazy. He was a fool to think that he could endure the entire wedding of someone he was still madly in love with. And he was an even bigger fool to think that he _wasn’t_ still in love with him. How could even a year apart have not quelled all his feelings?

As he stormed out the front door, Sakusa passed wedding guests and bumped shoulders with some of them as they strolled around the building to the back garden where the wedding was to be held. Sakusa could feel their stares as he passed, but he couldn’t pay them any mind, not when he was sure how red-rimmed his eyes looked.

When he reached the street that bordered the estate, Sakusa wrapped his arms tightly across his chest and pulled his lips between his teeth.

_“I’m Miya Atsumu!”_

_The man was sticking his hand out rather forcefully and his voice was full of this sickening cheer._

_“I know who you are,” Sakusa replied coldly, “we played against each other in high school.”_

_“We did?” Atsumu tilted his head in disbelief._

_Sakusa scoffed and walked further into the MSBY court._

_“Now, I’m sure if we’d played against each other, I woulda remembered you,” Atsumu followed close behind, theorizing._

_“And why is that?” Sakusa turned to bite back._

_Atsumu stared at him for a long second, jaw slack, finger pointing. Sakusa’s eyes narrowed._

_“No reason,” Atsumu fibbed._

Sakusa let out another shuddering breath. Now that he was far enough away from the estate, he could let the hot, stinging tears leak from the corners of his eyes and create even ravines down both of his cheeks. He sniffed in just as the first drops tickled the junction of his jaw and neck.

_“You missed your chance,” Hinata soothed._

_“I know,” Sakusa replied flatly._

_“He found someone else.”_

_“Why did you come all this way to tell me?” Sakusa asked._

_“Thought you’d like to know,” Hinata answered gently._

_“If I wanted to know the state of his love life, I would’ve kept in touch with him,” Sakusa reasoned._

_“You haven’t talked at all?”_

_“There’s no point to it.”_

The car couldn’t have pulled up soon enough. Sakusa checked to make sure that it was definitely an Uber before climbing in the backseat, simultaneously wiping his tears as he shuffled around and buckled himself in.

“Hyogo Airport?” The driver asked.

“Yes, sir,” Sakusa mumbled.

The car sped off without another word. The feeling was rather soothing considering the sweeping storm that had taken over Sakusa’s body in that moment. He held his hands over his chest to prevent the entire thing from disassembling right onto the car floor. He stared out the window as the estate disappeared and the landscape turned back into familiar rolling plains and cedars.

Sakusa shrugged his shoulders to wipe more tears from his cheeks as discreetly as he could. He tried to mask his sniffles as allergies, accenting it with throat clears and other indicators.

“Shit,” he whispered to himself.

As the car turned onto the highway, Sakusa reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He made quick work of finding Atsumu’s contact, but his finger could only tremble over the name. He’d lied to Hinata already, so what was the harm in doing it again.

His stomach flipped as the receiver rang. He knew that Atsumu wasn’t going to pick up since, by checking the car’s clock, the ceremony would begin in thirty minutes and he was probably taking pictures with his groomsmen. So, when the receiver finally stopped ringing and Atsumu’s message blasted over the line, Sakusa swallowed thickly and prepared himself.

“Hey—Atsumu. Something came up with my family in the States and I-I had to catch a flight as soon as possible. I’m really sorry.”

The words felt so stale on his tongue and it was almost like he was playing a character, some slant of his actual self.

“Just—uh—enjoy your wedding. I’m—”

The words caught up in his throat. Sakusa cleared it, but nothing would dislodge. Instead, he peered out the window and let another tear fall over his lip and into his mouth so he could taste the bitter, salty remnants.

“I’m really happy for you,” he whispered.

_“Omi,” Atsumu chuckled._

_It was their first event as MSBY players. Really, it was just a dinner for a bunch of investors to look at them like cattle for purchase. Bokuto seemed to be the only one really selling the act; he’d been showing off his biceps to a clan of obsessed wives for a good thirty minutes._

_“I hate when you call me that,” Sakusa grumbled._

_“No ya don’t,” Atsumu joked._

_The two of them had retreated to their table which the other patrons and players had evacuated in pursuit of the dance floor and the open bar. Atsumu was nursing some sort of martini while Sakusa was still working on his first glass of wine._

_“Y’know, with all this investment talk, I’ve been thinkin’ about the future,” Atsumu shared._

_“And what makes you think I care?” Sakusa replied coldly._

_“You don’t have to care, but I’m gonna talk about it anyways.”_

_Sakusa groaned even though he was curious what Atsumu had to say. He was always curious, even though he hated the guy._

_“I wanna find someone who likes me a lot and marry ‘em,” Atsumu said._

_Silence stretched between them._

_“Is that it?” Sakusa interrogated._

_“Yup.”_

_“What about after that?” Sakusa prodded._

_“Doesn’t matter,” Atsumu shrugged, “I don’t care what I do as long as I’m doin’ it with someone I love.”_

_Sakusa’s chest got tight and his hands started to buzz. He’d definitely had too much wine._

_“Tch,” Sakusa scoffed, “that’s stupid.”_

_Atsumu sighed._

_“You’re right, it is,” he took a swig of his gin, “I dunno if I’ll ever find someone who loves me like that.”_

He ended the call in a flurry. When he shut his eyes, Sakusa could feel more tears get pushed by his thick lashes. He wasn’t even sure if there was a flight out tonight, he just didn’t know where else to go that wasn’t the home that was still full of memories of Atsumu or the venue where he was going to be married to someone who wasn’t Sakusa.

“Are—you alright?” The driver asked awkwardly.

Sakusa pursed his lips and glanced down into his lap.

“Yeah,” he gave a clipped response.

When he thought back, it was hard to pinpoint the moment that he went from hating Atsumu to not hating him at all. It was more like a continuum, a patchwork of different colored moments that made up a picture Sakusa couldn’t see until all the proper pieces were in place. But when the picture was finally clear, it felt like it was too late. When Atsumu announced that he was leaving, Sakusa was still new to the whole ‘being in love’ thing. How was he supposed to know that Atsumu wouldn’t come back and would find love so soon like that?

But there was that one moment where Sakusa knew that he would never be able to forget Atsumu—it was the moment he’d written about in the note.

The note.

“Damnit,” he hissed again, opening his phone and dialing another familiar contact.

Thankfully, this one picked up.

“What?” Hinata hissed over the line, “We’re walking down the aisle in ten minutes!”

“You need to get the note,” Sakusa told him in a panic.

“The what?” Hinata asked.

“The note, the one I left on the gift table, you have to get it and throw it away.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me,” Sakusa pled, “Atsumu can’t read it.”

“What did you write in there?” Hinata asked.

“I don’t have time to tell you, just get rid of it, please,” Sakusa begged.

The sounds of Sakusa’s breaking heart were quickly replaced by the pangs of fear rattling through his chest. He tried to make it sound like he wasn’t crying, but Hinata was more perceptive than that.

“Fine, I’ll do it now,” he conceded, “call me when you get to the States, okay?”

“Yeah,” Sakusa half-fibbed, “will do.”

It was Hinata who ended the call. Sakusa leaned until his head rammed against the window. He couldn’t watch the rushing landscape anymore, it looked too much like his life whipping by him before he got the chance to enjoy it. He heaved a sigh and reminded himself that Hinata was reliable: if he said he’d throw away the letter, he had to trust that it would get done.

There was another ten minutes or so of their drive. Thankfully, the airport wasn’t as far from the venue as Sakusa originally thought. He didn’t have any of his stuff, but he couldn’t care about it now. All he could focus on was thanking the driver and shimmying out of the car onto the sidewalk that wrapped around the rather small airport.

Looking around, Sakusa took notice of how overdressed he really was. Passing families and couples hauling suitcases stared at him with wide-eyed expressions. They probably thought he was someone rich and important; little did they know that he was running from a wedding he might’ve almost crashed.

He had to navigate himself with a map, but he eventually found the help desk.

“Hi, do you have any outgoing flights to Houston tonight?” He asked the receptionist in a flurry.

“Let me check,” she grinned and tapped away at her computer.

Sakusa drummed on the surface of the counter with his finger and glanced around the airport for a moment. There was this guy in the corner, he was blonde, and the sight of him sent a pang through Sakusa’s heart. It wasn’t until he turned that Sakusa was reminded that it wasn’t Atsumu—it couldn’t be Atsumu.

“Here,” the receptionist said cheerily, “I have a flight at 5:15pm.”

“Perfect,” Sakusa said, already digging for his wallet.

“Do you have any—bags to check?” The receptionist asked, peering worriedly around the corner.

“No,” Sakusa replied rather pathetically.

How stupid did he look buying a plane ticket with no bags at all?

“Alright,” the receptionist sighed.

He paid for his plane ticket, thanked the confused young lady, and sped off to his terminal, checking the gate number every thirty seconds as if it would change.

The security associates eyed him strangely, too, as he entered the line without a carry-on or anything. But Sakusa couldn’t be bothered to care. His mind was somewhere else, even as he walked in and out of the X-ray machine and slid his watch and rings back on after the fact. He did remember that watch, the one Atsumu was talking about. Every time they saw each other after Atsumu took it, Sakusa would think about asking for the watch back, but he could never bring himself to actually do it. He was too wrapped up in this delusion that every time Atsumu would look at it, he’d think of Sakusa.

When he finally reached his gate number, Sakusa sighed. He slumped into a seat and shoved off his tight suit jacket. He unbuttoned just an inch or so of his shirt and even unlinked the cuffs so he could give his wrists some freedom of movement. As he slid further into the seat, he felt his limbs begin to disassemble, the shattered pieces of his heart clinked against his insides.

With one hand, Sakusa rubbed his eyes; with the other, he made a fist.

_“You don’t know if that’s true,” Sakusa retorted._

_“I do,” Atsumu shrugged again, “there’s a reason I’ve never been in a long-term relationship. Just don’t think I’m built for love an’ marriage an’ all that.”_

_Sakusa ran his finger around the rim of his drink. He swallowed what he wanted to say in favor of what he knew he should say._

_“I’ve never been in one, either,” he mumbled._

_“Really?” Atsumu asked._

_Sakusa nodded dully, his ears running hot from the shame._

_“Maybe we could—” Atsumu looked expectantly at him._

_Sakusa straightened his posture. His heart went into a fit, a sort of tapping and thumping all over his chest. Atsumu’s brow eventually fell and his mouth cracked into a teasing smile._

_“Gotcha,” he said, “you fell for it there for a moment though.”_

_Sakusa manufactured a real-sounding chuckle before taking a sip from his now flat glass of wine. It was a joke, that was all. To Atsumu, Sakusa was a joke._

Sakusa wondered what was happening now. Perhaps the entire wedding party had already walked down the aisle to some run-of-the-mill wedding song and were about to say their vows to one another. Sakusa imagined what he would say in his own vows to Atsumu.

It would probably sound a lot like what he wrote in that note.

Maybe they’d started early and the vows were already finished. Perhaps the man was carding his fingers through Atsumu’s hair, pulling him into their first kiss as married men. Sakusa had to purse his lips at the thought. He never got a chance to kiss Atsumu and now he definitely never would.

There was probably a barrage of workers milling through the hall where the reception was going to be held. They were probably setting up decorations and centerpieces and preparing the meal. Perhaps they were setting up the champagne glasses at the head table: one for Atsumu and one for Atsumu’s new husband. Sakusa crossed his arms again and bottled up all the hot anger inside himself. Maybe one day he would release it, but the only day he’d found suitable for such a display was the day of his death.

However, no matter how tightly he wound his arms around his chest or crossed one leg over the other, he couldn’t hold in the sadness, the mounting sorrow that had been building up for god knows how long.

It always felt like a game to Sakusa. He would begin at square one, a rather lonely place to be, and have to claw and fight to move forward. It would always be in pursuit of something, some end goal, but right as he found himself moving forward, reaching out in courage, he would fall. And every time, no matter what he did, he’d find himself back at square one: lonely, unwanted, unloved.

He had to get up. He had to move.

He had to make a phone call.

Digging his phone once more from his pocket, Sakusa hoisted himself up and shuffled over to a corner where there weren’t any passengers waiting for the same plane as him. He sniffled once more and dialed one of his most recent numbers.

It rang once.

Then twice.

Then again and once more.

“Hi, you’ve reached Miya Atsumu. I can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back t’you as soon as I can!”

Sakusa’s mouth went paper-dry. His clammy fingers tightened around the phone as it beeped.

“I love you,” he said in a shuddering whisper.

Like he was finally setting down his pack after a long hike, Sakusa felt an immense weight fall from his shoulders.

“I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you,” he continued, “I just didn’t know it until it was too late.”

Sakusa couldn’t see clearly anymore, not with the mist of tears that had taken over his eyes.

“And I should’ve stopped you, I should’ve told you to stay at MSBY but the words wouldn’t come out right and I—” he choked up, “I regret it every single day.”

Sakusa sucked in all the mucus and congestion that had built up in his nose and stared up at the ceiling to let the tears fall down his temples instead.

“But—you were wrong, that night,” he said softly, “when you said no one would ever love you like that.”

His hands trembled. In his vision, Sakusa could see the tears that had collected on his thick black lashes. As his chest fell with a sigh, Sakusa had to suppress what would’ve otherwise been an audible cry.

“But I love you,” he whispered shakily, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Every repetition felt like a prayer, a simultaneous plea for things to be different and a statement of what might never change. Sakusa used his free hand to wipe tears from all over his face, praying that no one was watching—not like he cared, anyhow.

“But you can never know,” he eked out.

It was then that Sakusa pulled the phone from his ear and, with an impossibly shaky finger, pressed ‘3’, and ended the call. The voicemail, along with his tearful confession, disappeared entirely, and all that was left was the notification that Sakusa had called at all.

When his screen finally went black, Sakusa shoved his face into the crook of his elbow and sobbed. People were definitely watching, now. But all Sakusa could do was cry, feel the tears engage in a freefall from his eyes and soak the crisp iron of his dress shirt. In all those years that he’d been madly in love with Miya Atsumu, he had never once cried, perhaps because there was always still hope that everything would work out.

And when all hope had finally been expunged, Sakusa was left with the wave of emotions he’d been staving off for far too long.

Now, the ocean that lay between them was too wide to even imagine the other shore. The waves were tumultuous, churning and crashing against the gray skies. Sakusa wanted nothing more than to be a wave, kissing Atsumu’s shoreline, but he was destined to be caught in the throes of his own failure and drown in all the words he should’ve said.

Somewhere behind him, Sakusa could hear commotion—voices and such.

“You have to let me through!” someone shouted.

Sakusa didn’t hear them quite right the first time. He was buried in his arm, after all.

“C’mon, you just gotta let me—hey!”

“Oh my god,” Sakusa whispered to himself, the realization rushing through him.

When he finally mustered the courage to peel his arm from his eyes and turn, Sakusa was met with the only sight he could never have anticipated.

“Lemme go! He’s right there, for god’s sake!”

“Atsumu,” Sakusa hummed in disbelief.

Sure enough, the blonde was being restrained by one of the security people. Another guard looked on menacingly like he was planning to take over or something.

“Atsumu,” Sakusa repeated; it was all he could think to say.

“Look! That’s him!” He motioned towards Sakusa with his head.

Sakusa just stood there, slack jawed, wondering if what he was seeing was real or just some hallucination of his sorrow-ridden mind. He kept blinking, sure that the mirage would eventually disappear.

“Kiyoomi!” Atsumu shouted, finally wrenching away from the guards and rushing to where Sakusa was standing paralyzed amongst the seats.

He was frazzled. His hair that had once been slicked back in a neat style was poking up everywhere and his suit jacket was slipping off of his right shoulder. He was panting and crouching in front of Sakusa like he’d run all the way there from the venue.

“What are you—” Sakusa whispered, almost entirely unable to form the words.

From his hunched position, Atsumu lifted his right hand into the air. Clasped within it was a crumpled piece of paper.

It was Sakusa’s note.

Sakusa shook his head, “How did you--?”

“Do you love me?”

Atsumu was standing upright now, albeit still out of breath, but his eyes were in a pleading frenzy, staring right at Sakusa.

“What?” Sakusa eked out.

“Because this—” he gestured with the note, “do you _love_ me, Kiyoomi?”

Sakusa blinked again. It couldn’t be real, it just couldn’t.

“But, Atsumu—your wedding,” he said softly.

“Do you _love me_?” He asked again, more desperate this time.

Each of Atsumu’s breaths were heavy and shuddering. He gripped the paper with all the strength he could muster, creating permanent folded ravines amongst the scrawled writing.

“It doesn’t matter what I say because you’re getting married either way,” Sakusa tried to steady his voice as best he could.

“I’m not getting married if you love me,” Atsumu said insistently, holding the paper even tighter.

The people at the gate were staring now. Sakusa glanced all around the airport, noticing the security guards that were keeping a close eye on Atsumu.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Atsumu tilted his head.

“Remember what?”

“That night—the night we talked at the MSBY event,” Atsumu explained, “you said that if you were going to confess, you’d do it with a note detailing your favorite memory with that person.”

Did Sakusa really say that? Could that have been why it was so hard for him to think of something to write on that note? Had he confessed—accidentally?

“And so if you love me you have to tell me because it’s been eatin’ away at me for the past year I just _have_ to _know_ ,” Atsumu pled.

The paper quivered within his grasp. His lips were parted to let out hot pants and his entire body was poised and expectant.

“Do you love me?” He asked in a whisper.

_“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Atsumu admitted that drunken night on the balcony._

_Sakusa only hummed in response._

_“Have you kissed anyone?”_

_Sakusa eyed him strangely, “Yes.”_

_It wasn’t a lie, he’d kissed this girl in fourth grade. He hated it._

_“I bet it’s nice,” Atsumu smiled out to the stars, “especially if they surprise you with it by like pullin’ you in or somethin’.”_

Perhaps Sakusa didn’t remember his specific confession at the MSBY dinner, but he remembered every moment of that conversation on the balcony.

So, with his left hand, Sakusa wrapped his fingers around the fist that was gripping the note and he pulled until Atsumu’s body was pressed against his and their mouths were sealed over one another.

Neither of them needed a moment to adjust or be surprised. It was like their lips were made for each other, and the act was so practiced it was like they’d been doing it for years. As soon as Atsumu’s hot breath fanned over the inside of Sakusa’s mouth, he couldn’t help but wrap his arm around Atsumu’s waist and pull him in even closer, afraid that if he let go, he’d lose him forever.

Atsumu tilted his head and melted into Sakusa’s grip, using his free hand to grab Sakusa’s curls and pull his face even closer. For a moment, they both stopped moving just to breathe each other’s air and set down five years-worth of burdens.

“Stay,” Sakusa whispered into his mouth.

Atsumu panted against him, the tip of his nose pressing against Sakusa’s cheek.

“That’s what I should’ve told you that night,” Sakusa continued, “stay—because I love you.”

Atsumu dove back in, letting his hand droop to Sakusa’s neck now. There was chatter behind them, probably from other plane passengers who had watched the whole scene, but Sakusa’s mind was too occupied with the taste of Atsumu’s lips to give a fuck.

For years, Sakusa had believed he and Atsumu to be two shorelines bordering a vast ocean but, in that moment, he realized they were anything but. Rather, they were two waves who happened to crash into one another in the center of the universe and could wrap around each other, kissing and crashing and churning. They were never separate shores, they had always _always_ been the same wave just waiting for the perfect positioning of the moon.

_Atsumu,_

_A long time ago, you told me that you weren’t worthy of love, that no one would ever like you enough to want to marry you. I think you are wrong. In fact, I know that you are._

_It was early in our time at MSBY. I didn’t show up for practice one day and I really thought that no one would care. But then I’m lying in my bed and I get a call. It’s you. You’re wondering if I’m okay. We’d only met for a total of four hours or so and you were offering to bring soup to my house. I told you I was fine, but you wouldn’t take no for an answer. Ten minutes later, I hear the doorbell ring and I open it to find my favorite instant ramen that I’d only mentioned once in passing._

_You see, you’re the kind of person to believe that you must pander to those around you to be appealing, to be loved. But that’s not true. People love you simply because you exist. Your attention to people runs far deeper than mere pandering. You care. Not many people care like that. It was only a matter of time until someone noticed this quality of yours and were swept off their feet._

_I wish that things had been different—that we hadn’t lost touch over this past year. But I carry you with me in this small way, my newfound insistency in caring in such small ways. I know it’s not much of a memory, but I felt as though I had to share it with you. Sorry if it’s underwhelming or unimpressive._

_I hope that you get to live out that dream of yours, marrying someone who loves you and whom you love back so much so that the rest doesn’t matter. If only we were all so lucky._

_Thank you,_

_Kiyoomi_

**Author's Note:**

> that's it. this pairing brings me life. if you like this but want more story and more angst, I have a 10-chapter sakuatsu fic called "frankenstein's monster" which is basically just me projecting all my issues onto this fictional pairing.  
> [ this ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6qSwOps6XkfTKVyTjjTkTT?si=nM4Sgy_6SY-Y_6op4BAyDg) is basically my sakuatsu playlist if you're interested


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